The Right Decision
by Ellie12
Summary: Rhett is injured while helping Scarlett flee Atlanta, and she brings him back to Tara with her.


Title: The Right Decision  
  
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: While helping Scarlett escape from Atlanta, Rhett is knocked unconscious and brought back to Tara.   
  
Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief as Rhett guided the panicked horse out of the fiery depot. Nothing could be worse than the inferno they'd just been through. The horse seemed to agree, moving forward at a steady clip of his own volition, eager to put as much distance between the fire as possible. Rhett was silent as he navigated the back streets of Atlanta, trying to stay away from the chaos breaking out in the main areas of town.  
  
Hazarding a glance behind her, she saw Wade curled up next to Prissy, both of whom appeared to be shocked into silence. Even Melly's baby had ceased to cry out from Prissy's arms. Scarlett felt a flash of sympathy for Melly, being bounced around in the back of this disgraceful excuse for a wagon so soon after giving birth. Mercifully, it appeared Melly had fainted, her face ashen and her eyes closed without evidence of pain. She turned away from them, reassured that everyone she was responsible for had made it safely thus far.  
  
One hand remained on Rhett's capable arm, gaining reassurance from the strength she felt there. He appeared to have a light, steady grip on the reins, but the muscles she felt through the fabric of his shirt were like steel, strong and safe, able to protect her from the madness around them. Half of what they passed on the way to the road to Jonesboro she would never remember enough of to recount to anyone later, shell-shocked as she was.   
  
Suddenly, she was jarred from her reverie as three men closed in on the wagon. Rhett pulled away from her, all his attention focused on keeping the horse moving forward and out of the grasp of the men. She reached over and pulled one of the guns out of his holster, eliciting a wry grin from him, even as his attention was focused on other matters. Even a crack of the whip against the horse's back couldn't keep it moving forward as two of the men grabbed its bridle, halting any forward motion.  
  
Rhett handed the reins over to Scarlett as he moved forward, trying to move the men away. No words were exchanged in the silent power struggle, leaving Scarlett watching helplessly, doing her best to remain calm, knowing it would do no good to panic. Rhett's pistol was folded into the skirts gathered in her lap, close the where her hands held the reins, trying to pretend she was simply out for a Sunday drive, the type her father had taken her on when she was younger.  
  
One of the men was flung away from the wagon's side by Rhett's brute strength, falling heavily onto the dusty clay road. Watching him fall, Rhett failed to notice that another man who had previously been holding the horse's left cheekpiece had moved away. Scarlett took note, trying to urge the horse forward, despite the hold on its right side, resulting in a slight turning of the wagon with no forward movement. As the wagon was coming to a halt, Scarlett, frustrated with her failure to make progress, failed to see the man who had appeared to be giving up come closer to Rhett, his fist raised above his head.  
  
A sharp crack broke the silent struggle, and Scarlett saw a brick falling out of the man's hand and glancing off Rhett's head. In that moment she did panic, crying out enough to startle the horse forward and out of the remaining man's grasp even as she lunged forward to grab at Rhett's arm. With the assistance of the wagon's forward momentum, she was able to pull him back onto the bench next to her.  
  
His eyes lolled in his head, focusing briefly on her face before falling closed. She tried to support his weight against her side while reining in the panicked horse. By some miracle, she held him next to her while slowing the horse to a trot, allowing it to move freely down the road ahead as she focused on Rhett. His weight was far to great for her to support on her own for very long.  
  
"Damn him," she thought, "right when I need him the most." Yet she knew he needed her now, would be another of those she brought back to Tara seeking asylum from the madness into which her world had plunged. She kept an arm tight around his waist for nearly a mile before she slowed the horse, hoping she'd put enough distance between any pursuers.  
  
"Rhett? Can you hear me at all?"  
  
A low moan escaped his lips, but no other sign of awareness was present in his heavy, limp form.  
  
"I'm going to lay you back here with Melly and Prissy, and let Wade be the little gentleman he is and help me drive this wagon on home." She spoke loudly enough for all to hear, as much to reassure herself as to reassure them.  
  
Wade's frightened face lit up at her words, unsure of what she meant, but happy to have some recognition from his mother that did not seem instantly negative.   
  
"Prissy, stop hiding back there like a goose and help me move Mister Rhett back there with Miss Melly. I can't do everything myself." Between the two of them, Rhett was placed unceremoniously on the hard wagon bed next to Melly's unconscious form.   
  
Wade watched with wide eyes as his mother struggled, obviously worried not only about this man, but about all of them. When she finished lowering Rhett's form into the back, she pulled him up onto the bench with her, leaving Prissy to find space for herself and the baby.  
  
"Would you like to hold the whip, Wade, while Mother drives?" Scarlett was exhausted. Normally without patience for the boy that would have been heightened in such a state, something told her to occupy his mind until he fell asleep. He eagerly took the buggy whip from her hand, barely tapping the horse on the back with it when she nodded to him. In very little time, he fell asleep against her side, leaving her to contemplate the day's events alone on the road.  
  
She had no idea what she would do once they were home. Assuming there was a home, if Rhett's earlier words were to be believed. At that moment, she had no choice but to trust that Tara would be there waiting for her, just as her mother and Mammy's open arms would be. If only they could make it through this long night, everything would be just fine once they reached Tara. She had to keep believing, or the desolation she saw around her would drive her mad.  
  
The heat of day scorched them, melting away any reserves of energy left. Creeks that would once have been sources of water along the wagon trace from Rough and Ready to Twelve Oaks were either muddied from thousands of soldiers tramping through them or dried up under the nearly unbearable heat. Scarlett was glad she'd brought a bonnet to protect her face from the glaring rays. The others in the wagon weren't so lucky, as Wade tried to find shelter in his mother's shadow, and Prissy did her best to cover the baby. There was no helping Melly or Rhett, however, whose faces Scarlett could see becoming redder as the day passed.  
  
Never was Scarlett happier than when the heaving horse turned onto the road near Twelve Oaks. She hesitated, letting the horse stop and ease its labored breathing. The tree-lined drive obscured any view of the house. The desire to stop here in the twilight, leave Melly with her own kin before continuing to Tara, was strong. She knew they all needed to be off this damned wagon and find rest and refreshment somewhere. Twelve Oaks would be as good a spot as any, and John Wilkes would not refuse them his assistance.  
  
The horse was reluctant to move forward again, and the light tap-tap-tap Wade gave it did little to motivate him. Slowly, they gained momentum and moved down the drive, in the black shadows of trees, the moon obscured by clouds. The end of the drive, where Scarlett had expected to see the massive white form of the house, was dark, and remained so even after the clouds parted and moonlight illuminated the spaces between tree branches.   
  
She pulled up the horse and handed the reins over to Wade. She knew there was no danger of the boy needing to control the animal, who was content to reach down and eat the large clumps of weeds growing in the margins of the drive. Her body ached as she climbed out of the wagon, cautiously making her way towards the house. Almost unconsciously, her right hand came to rest on Rhett's pistol, tucked securely into her skirt.   
  
As she approached what had been the porch, she came face to face with the devastation wrought by war. The portico, with its grand columns, stood, but the door and windows were gone, what whitewash that had not chipped off was charred with smoke. Stepping through the doorway, she choked back a sob. Most of the house was gone, collapsed under some impact or explosion. Rubble littered the parquet floor, small pieces working its way into her slippers as she picked her way through it. She was glad Melly was unconscious and unable to see the devastation wrought to the house, and happy no one was nearby to see the tears that pooled in her eyes and threatened to stream down her cheeks. With her blazing green eyes, she'd never been able hide the redness of tears, as the contrast only drew attention to them.  
  
Rubble shifted near what once was the grand staircase. Her hand flew to the pistol as she looked for a place to hide. Relief flooded her when an emaciated cow stumbled across the floor, curious at the return of life to the desolation. She sighed, knowing there was no help for any of them here and not wanting to admit that she might find Tara in a very similar state.   
  
Walking to the doorway with the cow curiously following behind her, she called out. "Prissy, come in here and help me tie up this cow. We can take her along with us."  
  
The cow ambled slowly behind the wagon, content at the companionship of other living things. Wade had been enchanted by the animal, and Scarlett had reluctantly let him help tie it to the wagon. His request to sit at the back and pet it as they moved down the road had been denied, however, with his mother claiming she needed his help to drive the wagon. Only this was enough to satisfy his desire to be helpful and be loved. His young mind was unable to understand why his mother was suddenly being kind to him; even Scarlett herself would have been unable to explain her shifting behavior.  
  
The short miles to Tara passed in silence, as Scarlett contemplated what she might find there. She had no idea where they would go if it was in the same state as Twelve Oaks; there were several other plantations around she knew would be willing to help them, but the Fontaines or the Tarletons would not be permanent solutions to their problem. The night provided no answers, as clouds rolled over the moon, keeping most of their journey in darkness, its silence broached only by the creaking of the wagon and the chirping of insects. The magnolia and cotton blossoms which filled the air with their perfumes in all the nights of Scarlett's childhood were not to be found in the air that night, replaced instead by the smells of dirt and musty decay.  
  
As they crested the rise before the drive to Tara, Scarlett peered through the darkness, trying to see the house. The moon provided no help, as unbroken clouds blocked even starlight from aiding her. Eager to be home, even if it was no more, she took the whip from Wade's slumbering hand, cracking it across the horse's back. It stumbled, nearly falling to its knees, more exhausted than its passengers. Steadily, it recovered, moving ahead out of sheer desire to please, trying to trot on at a good clip. The cow straggled behind, doing its best to keep pace. A quiet moan escaped from Melly as they bounced down the drive, the first sound she'd made since Scarlett had tried to give her a bit of water that afternoon.  
  
Before the wagon ground to a halt, Scarlett dropped the reins and leapt over the sideboard. She hit the ground running, ignoring the bits of stone and dirt tearing at the soles of her feet. The porch was still there, and there were faint reflections in windowpanes, though there were no lights from inside. The dark silence of the house, formerly so lively, left her standing still at the front door, almost afraid of what she would find when she knocked.  
  
Her fears had not prepared her for the empty look in her father's eyes, looking at her but failing to recognize her. "Pa? It's me Pa, Katie Scarlett."  
  
"Katie Scarlett? Why, what are you doing out of the house alone at this hour? Mrs. O'Hara must hear about this."  
  
Before she could respond, Mammy came up behind Gerald, putting her hand on his arm. Scarlett stood, agape, unsure of how to react. What could have driven her father to such a state? As Gerald shuffled down the hall, Mammy stepped out to meet her, enfolding her in loving arms.  
  
"Chile, I sho is glad you home. We been needin you here these last days, we sho'ly have." Her eyes, never missing a thing, looked past Scarlett's shoulder to the wagon, where Wade still sat on the seat like a statue as Prissy tried to climb down while holding the baby. "Wat you got all these folks with you and don't be helping them down an' up to da house? Where yo manners, I done raised you better than that."  
  
"Oh." In her joy at returning, Scarlett had forgotten everything but the people inside the house. She turned to see the forlorn wagon with its sad occupants and beasts. "Well, Mammy, I brought Miss Melly back with me, and her newborn baby. I don't know what Prissy was doing, saying she knew anything about delivering a baby. I could have used your help." She bit her lip, hoping the flattery would spare Mammy's suspicion about Rhett's presence, but she knew it was to no avail. "And then there's Mister Butler, who was so kindly helping us evacuate when he was struck on the head. I felt obligated to take care of him, after all the help he was in providing a horse and wagon."  
  
"Miss Scarlett, bringing a baby inta this house ain't the best thing ta be doing right now. Your sisters, they took sick with the typhoid. Your mother been nursing 'em night and day, not resting at all for herself. And when other folks, they come down wit it too, she be helping them just as much as she help her own girls. People like those no 'count Slattery folks. She done take sick wit it herself. Miss Scarlett, last night, well, yo ma she done passed on last night."  
  
For the first time she could remember, there were tears of sorrow in the old woman's eyes. Scarlett saw them springing up as she spoke, and her own face paled accordingly. What was she to do without Mother? How would everyone be taken care of? This must be why Pa seemed out of his mind. She sat down on the edge of the porch, coming down hard onto the brick without noticing. For several long moments she sat, silent, as Mammy looked down at her, the sick guests in the wagon forgotten.  
  
"Well, Mammy, we'll just have to go on without her then. Have arrangements for the funeral been made?"  
  
Mammy shook her head, stunned yet proud that one of the girls she loved as her own daughter faced adversity so resiliently. She had always known Scarlett was the strongest of the O'Hara girls, with a will like iron. This strength had never before been tested by anything of consequence, and to see her answer this challenge better than the petty battles of will she'd had as a child was heartening.  
  
"Very well, I'll start planning tomorrow, and notifying what neighbors we have left, if you'll be so kind as to tell me who that might be. Now, we should see to getting these guests of mine into the house."  
  
Scarlett rose slowly from the bricks, squaring her shoulders and moving determinedly ahead. She was not sure how to face this uncertain future as the de facto head of the family, but she would make do, and make her mother proud. There were more important things now than grief. That would come later, when there was time for such luxuries.  
  
Red clay, moistened by sudden thunderstorms, adhered to the battered slippers covering her feet. For once in her life, Scarlett failed to notice or care about such details. Her mind was focused on the grave she was walking away from, entombing her mother next two three brothers she'd never known. Everyone else had made their way back to the house while Scarlett lingered, finally taking a few moments to mourn after two days of doing her best to right the chaos that had enveloped Tara following her mother's death.  
  
Suellen and Careen were still too sick to get out of bed, where they remained under Mammy's able care. Scarlett had them both moved into Suellen's room, giving Careen's to Wade. Melly and baby Beau were given the extra bedroom, always reserved for visitors, to recover in without the risk of exposing either her or the baby to any lingering chances of typhoid. She'd pondered some time over what to do with Rhett. Eventually, she'd had Pork put him in her old room, moving a few things of her own into Ellen's office. She had helped nurse them all, spending more time with Rhett as no one else in the house had any ties to him at all, feeling less concern for his recovery than Melly or the O'Hara sisters.  
  
Her father had been the most troubling of all. His world had disappeared with the loss of Ellen, leaving him confused and disoriented. Several times he had referred to her by her mother's name, and appeared not to have any memory of where he was. Typhoid and head injuries she could help; Gerald's wounds she did not know how to heal. Time, she hoped, would right things in his mind just as it would in the world.  
  
Dilcey and Mammy were beginning to light a few candles around the house, sending points of light out to greet her as she came up the hill to the house. They'd had some luck in finding stray vegetables not eaten by the occupying Yankees, and both Mammy and Dilcey had become handy at creating meals with what they had. Scarlett was thankful for this, as she had no aptitude in the kitchen, and accepted whatever they provided her with.  
  
"Mammy, what have you cooked up for me tonight?" Forced casualness radiated from her voice as she entered the dining room. Whatever she was given, she would eat gratefully. The best of what they could find to eat was given to the recovering, leaving most of her meals nothing more than broth.  
  
"Since today such a sad one, I figgered we should do as best we could. We gots some bits of old ham and some potatoes."  
  
Scarlett knew that bits of ham and some potatoes meant barely enough to taste, but it would do. "Fix me up two plates then, please. I'll have my dinner up with Mister Rhett. I'm sure he'd like some company." As he regained consciousness, his presence had been a godsend for her. While he was still not in any condition to be getting out of bed, he was a willing ear to her true thoughts and feelings, just as he'd always been.  
  
Rhett had been granted the luxury of a candle, burning away the precious resource as he sat reading in bed. He lowered the tome as Scarlett stepped down into the room, dinner tray in hand. She gave the book a cursory glance, glad to know that something she'd found in the study had been sufficient to entertain him.  
  
"Dinner is served, sir." The humor in her tone, to her surprise, didn't feel forced. It was easier to have a lighter outlook with Rhett around.  
  
"Thank you very much, my dear Mrs. Hamilton." He had been restrained in his mocking of her since arriving at Tara. In the space of two brief days, Scarlett seemed to be transformed, and he hardly recognized the responsible, caring person who entered his room every day.  
  
"I know it's not much. But it's the best we can do, for now. Hopefully, soon, I can try to talk to Pa, find some more money..." She trailed off, unsure why she was making excuses.  
  
"Why don't you give yourself a break from all that for a few moments and join me for dinner. You look like you've had a hell of a day."  
  
"Rhett! Don't say such things, Mammy would have you out of the house in a minute, sick or not, if she heard you talk like that!"  
  
For the first time in days, laughter broke the melancholy that had been hanging over all of them. Joyful and deep, Rhett's laugh shed a ray of light into the morose household. It was infectious, and Scarlett felt a smile break across her face, giving way to her own laughter.  
  
As she sat in the high-backed chair next to the bed, her laughter gave way suddenly to the tears she'd been holding back. Try as she might, she was unable to stop their flow. Burying her face in the coverlet at Rhett's side, she let them come, hoping he would not think her weak for them. Tenderly his hand came up to stroke her hair, letting her have the release she needed.  
  
"Scarlett." Never before had she heard such genuine tenderness in his voice. His hand dropped down to her shoulder as she lifted her face from the coverlet, ashamed to meet his eyes. She was supposed to be taking care of him, not the other way around. "Come here."  
  
Unsure of anything in this topsy-turvy world, she pushed what Mammy would think out of her mind as she let Rhett push his dinner tray out of the way and settle her at his side, one of his arms around her waist.  
  
"Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, my pet."  
  
Sniffling, she searched for an appropriate opening. "I wanted to come back here because...because it's always been the place I feel safe. My mother, she always took care of all of us. Everything was always all right when she was here. But, oh, but Rhett things aren't all right. Mother's...Mother's dead, and the security that went with her is gone." Pausing, she tried to get her sobs under control.   
  
"Nothing else is right now, either. My sisters are both weak as children, Melly's still barely able to sit up in bed, Wade hasn't said a dozen words since we've gotten here, and then there's Pa. I don't know what's happened to him, its like the life has gone out of him. He's so...vacant. There have been times when he's thought I was Mother. Even you're sick in bed, and before I'd never even seen you with a hair out of place, let alone ill. And I just don't know how to make all of this better."  
  
Rhett gave her a moment to come to terms with what she'd shared, needing the time to take it in himself. He was startled by the maturity and sincerity of her words, grief providing involuntary candor. "You seem to be doing a fine job of handling everything so far Scarlett. Most people would have been beyond what they could handle that night in Atlanta, let alone everything you've come back here to find. Give me another day or so, and I'll be up and around and can help you in whatever way you want."  
  
Surprised at his words, she pulled away from him, searching his face for an absent mocking. His eyes were more open than she'd ever seen them before, and she took a few moments to study the sentiments there. Not all of them were clear to her, but genuine concern and compassion were plain to see. Something deeper, too, beneath these sentiments that she couldn't quite put her finger on.  
  
Satisfied, she returned the easy embrace he'd held her in. "Thank you. It means the world to me that you're willing to stay and help once you've recovered. You know you're under no obligation to do so." It was her turn to watch his expression, gage his reaction to the easy out she was giving him.  
  
"I have no doubt in your ability to pull through all of this without my assistance. You're a very intelligent and resourceful woman with a good head on her shoulders. But I wouldn't dream of abandoning you, not when I can help." There was no hesitation in his voice, and it was all the reassurance Scarlett needed.  
  
After a few quiet moments indulging herself in the safety of his embrace, she reluctantly shifted, moving back to the bedside chair. "If you're going to be of any help to me, you're going to have to eat. It's not much, but we've gone through a lot of trouble for it."  
  
Dim, rosy light was breaking through the windows of Ellen's office, chasing away the night's shadows. Scarlett groaned and twisted on the couch, the vertebra in her back cracking as she tried to turn away from the light. Knowing all the work to be done, she refused to allow herself the indulgence of sleep, however. As she became more fully awake, she realized she was not alone in the office.  
  
"Rhett! God's nightgown! What are you doing down here?" His very stillness startled her as he regarded her from a nearby chair, his face shadowed.  
  
"I've spent too damn much time in bed this last week and I couldn't stay there another minute. There's water on the stove for coffee or tea, if we have any."  
  
"We don't." She reached for a wrapper to cover herself, taking a moment to realize she had one dress, and had been sleeping in it. "I suppose we ought to go try and find something, though." The idea of breakfast, real breakfast, that Rhett had hinted at with coffee and tea was almost enough to set her stomach growling. In the past few months, she'd gotten so used to being hungry that a full meal would feel foreign to her now.  
  
"Looking around, it doesn't look like there's much."  
  
"There were a few potatoes left. We can cook them up for breakfast. Wade will like that, and I know Melly, Suellen and Careen can stomach those."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I don't matter. I make sure most of my food goes to them anyway. Especially to Wade."  
  
Rhett gave her a peculiar look as he rose from the chair, the sharp angles of the dawn's light hiding his expression. This Scarlett was altogether different that the headstrong child he'd loved in Atlanta. The same spirit was there, but it was tempered and shaped by a sudden maturity. He'd known it was possible to grow up virtually overnight-his youth was a testament to the fact-but he had not pegged Scarlett for the type to change so easily. This woman was a pleasant surprise, an incarnation he was more drawn to than the previous.  
  
"You never cease to surprise me, Scarlett."  
  
The admiration in his voice was subtle, but her weary senses picked up on it. "I hope that's a compliment. So thank you. Now let's see about breakfast, so I can put you to work."  
  
As the hot afternoon sun beat down on Tara, Scarlett paused in her efforts to salvage more of the garden. Her hands were dirty and raw, the cuticles stained red with clay. She could barely make out Rhett's form as he walked the fence line enclosing the horse and heifer. While she was thankful for the fresh milk, she really had no idea how to care for farm animals. The task had been delegated to Rhett, as he at least knew something about horses. Walking the fence had provided an opportunity for fresh air and exercise, something she knew he'd been craving while confined to the house. And, she reminded herself, it was something that needed done-it wouldn't do to have the animals getting loose.  
  
Rhett's figure disappeared into the shadowed tree line, and she turned towards the house. Careen and Suellen were on the porch, making a feeble attempt at doing laundry. Wade played under their observation. She was grateful they were finally out of bed, but the battle of wills she'd had with Suellen that morning had been gargantuan, as the younger O'Hara had felt it her right to remain in bed another week. Scarlett was having none of it, knowing both her little sisters were well enough to help around the house. Great balls of fire, it wasn't like she was asking them to work in the fields like she and Prissy had been!   
  
Suellen glared at her as Scarlett made her way to the water bucket. Too tired for another argument, Scarlett ignored the look and sat down next to Wade. Her son had seemed suspicious of the faint attentions she'd tried to provide him in the last two weeks, but was gradually beginning to trust her. He seemed to enjoy, she noted, the small tasks she assigned to him, as if he treasured being needed.  
  
"Are you being a good boy, Wade?"  
  
"Yes, Mother." He stopped chasing an ant with a twig and looked up at her, expectant.  
  
Scarlett smiled and put her cleaner hand on his shoulder. "How would you like to help Mother for a little while before dinner?"  
  
Eagerly, he nodded. "Yes, Mother, I would."  
  
"Why don't you come back out here with me, and I'll show you how to dig for potatoes. Does that sound like fun?"  
  
Her son jumped down from the porch to follow her the field, glad to be of help. Scarlett had to admit that he'd been a good child, quiet and obedient. Even now, he was more willing to help around Tara than her own sister. Digging in the dirt for potatoes was just the thing to entertain the child, as he would enjoy doing it even if there was no edible reward.  
  
Returning from his walk around the makeshift pasture, Rhett paused to take in the sight before him. Scarlett was bent over in the garden, smudges of clay marring the maroon of her dress, thanking Wade for the small potatoes he was handing over to her. On the porch, one of her sisters-Careen, he thought-was calling to Wade, urging him to come clean up for dinner. The boy raced over the uneven terrain as fast as his little legs could carry him, twice tripping over the hardened ridges. As they disappeared into the house, Rhett made his way down to Scarlett, who remained working intently.  
  
"Scarlett." His warm hand made contact with the small of her aching back, as she bent down over a hoe.  
  
"Oh, Rhett, you startled me!"  
  
"It looks like you found some good help today."  
  
Puzzlement flickered over face as she tried to reconcile the battle of wills she'd undergone with the idea of 'good help.' "Well, Rhett, Wade was mighty helpful here in the garden, and I don't suppose you've done too badly."  
  
Glad she was able to joke, Rhett smiled as he handed her the sack he'd been carrying tools in. "This might help with dinner."  
  
Looking inside, Scarlett's frustration with the day's events boiled over. "I don't know where you get off! Bringing me a sack of flowers and weeds! Flowers are pretty, but I don't have much cause to be setting up bouquets-"  
  
Rhett cut her off. "They're not for decorating, Scarlett. Everything in there is quite edible. I can't promise it will taste good, but it's better than nothing."  
  
"Oh." Her jaw hung slack in surprise and shame at her outburst. "I'm sorry, Rhett, truly I am. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that everyone else has been so unwilling, and this just didn't..." She trailed off, gesturing to the bag's contents.  
  
"I know. Most people wouldn't recognize these as anything other than weeds and twigs. But as it turns out, some of the knowledge gained in my less than illustrious past may prove helpful after all."  
  
For an instant, his gaze met hers and his hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder. Scarlett felt, if just for that moment, that everything would be all right. Rhett was being so good to her, helping her through all this. These thoughts confused her, and Rhett broke the look, taking the bag from her hands.  
  
"I'll take this to Mammy and Dilcey, and show them how to cook some of it up. Won't they be in for a shock when I show up in the kitchen!"  
  
His tone was light, but Scarlett could tell he was trying to hide something with it. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what. Perplexed at his behavior and the confusing sentiments it was creating in her, she stared after him.  
  
Rhett continued to find unusual but edible plants, and even the occasional fish or rabbit. She has been taking the latest soup up to a bedridden Melanie when Scarlett paused to gaze out at the field, where Rhett was helping Careen, Suellen, and even little Wade to plant cotton. He had been nothing but helpful to her, providing assistance and a shoulder to cry on. Not once had he been mean to her since they arrived back at Tara, and for that Scarlett was grateful. Somehow, he always knew just what she needed from him, without her ever asking. Life was almost bearable thanks to him.  
  
Hooves on the drive broke her reverie. No one she knew had a horse, and certainly no one who would be calling alone. Stealthily, she made her way to her-Rhett's, she corrected herself-bedroom, and found one of his pistols. From the doorway, she could see a man in tattered blue walking through the foyer. Moments later, he emerged from Ellen's office with her jewelry box, his dirty hands pawing through the remains. Unable to bear the sight, she made her presence known.  
  
"Put that down right this instant." She was startled at how steady her voice sounded, even as her knees trembled.   
  
"Well hello there missy. You have this big house all to yourself?" He kept the jewelry box in his hands as he mounted the stairs.  
  
"I asked that you please put that down and kindly leave this property at once."  
  
Ignoring her request, the solider climbed two steps further before she raised the pistol and fired. The blast and recoil drew a cry of alarm from Melly, who she turned to see her doorway with Charles' sword. Both looked down to see the man with a spreading pool of blood beneath him.   
  
"Go back to bed, Melly, I'll take care of this."  
  
Melly's pale face seemed to grow paler, and she disappeared back into the room, sword softly scraping behind her.  
  
Trembling, Scarlett gripped the banister as she made her way down the stairs to the man. The back door opened as she reached the bottom, and Rhett entered, his eyes roving between the murdered man and the pistol in Scarlett's hand. Walking to her side, one of his hands covered her white-knuckled hand, feeling its death-grip on the banister ease, while removing his pistol from the other. When her eyes finally met his, they were empty.  
  
"I guess now I've done murder."  
  
"This is hardly the typical murder, darling. You did the right thing."  
  
"Do you really think so?" The tone was flat, but a childlike quality hid beneath its surface, pleading for his approval of her actions. Her gaze dropped, once more, to the blood spreading out over the wood floor.   
  
Rhett tucked the pistol into his trousers and drew her off the stairs, into his embrace. "I shudder to think at what would have happened to you, or poor Mrs. Wilkes, if you hadn't had the presence of mind to find one of my pistols. That was very smart of you." He drew back slightly, gauging her. "I'm also pleasantly surprised at what a good shot you are!"  
  
She straightened in his arms, her courage returning. "Oh, you are terrible! Rhett, I kill a man and all you can do is make jokes about my shooting ability!"  
  
"Don't get so out of sorts, Scarlett. I mean it. Under pressure, most people are terrible shots. I'm impressed that you were able to shoot him, rather than the wall or yourself."  
  
The admiration she saw in his eyes was genuine, and she took comfort in it. "What's done is done, I suppose. We can't just leave him here on the floor."  
  
Pulling out of the embrace she was surprised to find herself still in, she looked down at the uniformed man. "Would it be terribly wrong if we went through his pockets, before we-we bury him, I suppose?"  
  
"You really are an impressive woman, Scarlett. Perhaps not in the way your mother or Mammy wanted you to be, but impressive nevertheless. We certainly should. Then I'll take care of him while you clean up the mess."  
  
Before touching the body, Scarlett pried the jewelry box out of his fingers, carefully replacing her mother's earrings. Rhett watched silently, awestruck by her residual innocence and her resilience.  
  
News of the war's end was slow in coming to Tara. Melly had been overjoyed at the news, her pale face gaining some color at the prospect of Ashley's return. Scarlett started at her over their meager meal, wondering why she wasn't as happy as Melly at the prospect of Ashley's return; she had to admit to herself she felt nothing but a casual hope he would come home unharmed. At a loss to explain the deviance from what she thought she should feel, she pushed thoughts of him out of her mind entirely. She looked up to see Rhett, at the other end of the table, eyeing her, awaiting her response to Melanie's reaction. That was something else she couldn't think about right now; Rhett had never looked at her in Atlanta the way he'd taken to doing lately, and she just couldn't understand it. She had no spare time in which to ponder such things.  
  
After helping to clear the table and make sure Wade was settled into bed, Scarlett sought out Rhett. Searching everywhere through the house, she finally found him on the porch, hidden by the deep shadows of an evening with no moon. Without speaking, she sat down next to him on the cooling brick, close enough to touch him, but consciously not doing so.  
  
For several moments they both sat in silence. "What's troubling you, Scarlett?"  
  
"I was wondering whether, now that the war was over, whether you'd be staying on here. I know you were always traveling so much during the war, there must be obligations you have elsewhere."   
  
"Nothing terribly pressing." He turned to face her, trying to read her face in the dim light. "Do you want me to go, with the prospect of your very dear Mr. Wilkes returning?" For the first time since they'd come to Tara, hardness crept back into his tone with her.  
  
With much effort, she bit back a smart reply. She never got anywhere doing that, just got both of them madder, she was able to see now. "No, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I just didn't want you to feel obligated to stay here. You don't owe me-don't owe any of us anything.  
  
"And I don't..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath. "I've always been able to talk to you, Rhett, even if you do mock me something terrible for it. I don't know how I feel about Ashley anymore."  
  
"Oh, and what has brought about this sudden change of sentiment?" There was the mocking she'd been expecting in his tone, but something else. Curiosity? No, it wasn't that simple, but it provided the encouragement she needed.  
  
"I don't rightly know. Honestly, I hadn't thought about him much at all recently. There have been more important things, like trying to keep everyone from starving, to spend my time daydreaming. So when Melly brought it up at dinner, I felt guilty for not thinking of him, and then realizing I didn't feel much at all when I did again. I can't see him being much of a help around here, if he stays. You're much more helpful that he'd ever be, Rhett."  
  
He laughed at her casual flattery, but it was a laugh of politeness, not his deep laugh of true amusement. "Its good to know my abilities are so highly esteemed in your mind, Scarlett." Pausing, he grew serious. "Feelings do change with time and changes in our worlds. We've all been through a rather life-altering few years, it wouldn't be shocking to inexplicably feel different about something or someone."  
  
"You believe that?"  
  
"I don't believe it, I know it. After being thrown out of Charleston and heading west, I realized quite a few of the truths I'd held so sacred in genteel society meant very little to the great wide world."  
  
Never hearing much of his past, Scarlett kept silent, hoping he'd continue. After several seconds, she was surprised to find him silent as well, his gaze fixed on her.  
  
"You never talk much about your past, Rhett."  
  
"It's not a very pleasant topic, and certainly not one to be brought up in polite company."  
  
"Oh." She furrowed her brow. "But I thought you once said I wasn't a lady. Couldn't you tell me about it?"  
  
His deep laughter echoed against the brick of the porch. "Perhaps I will, one day. But I'm sure you'd rather talk about you. That subject always seems to interest you."  
  
"No," she shook her head, "not tonight. My mind's too much of a mess right now to be a very nice subject of conversation, even with you."  
  
Smiling white teeth flashed in the pale light of the new moon appearing over the trees. He rolled up one of his sleeves to the elbow and took her hand. His gentle grasp traced her index finger over a long, jagged scar on his forearm. She was startled at how intimate this felt, but had no desire to pull away, allowing herself to trust in the strength she could feel just beneath the skin.  
  
"Would you like me to tell you about the mountain lion that gave me this scar then?"  
  
Her green eyes glinted in the moonlight, and she could see his face settle into a genuine smile, with no hint of mocking as she nodded the affirmative. "I'd like nothing better."  
  
Soldiers returning home from the war found Tara a welcome respite in their journey. Scarlett was never happier to have Rhett around than when the men began arriving, hungry and seeking shelter. She'd been initially distrustful, and worried about strangers eating her family into oblivion; no one else in the house had shared her sentiments, and welcomed the men with open arms and such food as they could scrape together. Rhett had listened to her complain, never judging her opinions the way everyone else seemed to do. Instead, he'd pointed out that she could ask for a bit of work from the men in return, giving her and the others a rest of their own from the hard labor of running Tara.  
  
It seemed to her forever that these men passed through her land, eating what she offered them and doing a few menial tasks in return. Melly had grown increasingly nervous as Ashley failed to return, though she rarely gave voice to her fears, except at prayer time.   
  
Several weeks after they'd seen the last of the soldiers, Scarlett had returned to work in the fields. Doing what she could to help Rhett mend the fences, she looked up from the rail she was holding when a cry went up from the front of the house. Barely looking at one another, they both started for the house, with Rhett slightly ahead. She could see the pistol she'd shot the Yankee with tucked into the back of his trousers, and she took some measure of reassurance in that.  
  
Upon reaching the corner of the house, however, they found their worry unwarranted. Ashley stood embracing Melanie. He was dirty, the handsome gray of his uniform faded and stained, and had a mangled growth of beard. Scarlett came to a halt beside Rhett and stared up at Ashley, trying to get her breathing under control.  
  
"Heavens, we were so sure something terrible was going on from the yelling up here! I'm glad to see it was for good reason this time. It's nice to see you home, Ashley."  
  
"Scarlett, darling, hello." He stepped down to her level and kissed her offered cheek.  
  
Strangely, the shivers of delight that would have once coursed through her at such a gesture were absent. Hoping the chaotic state of her mental processes wasn't evident to Ashley, she attempted to redirect his attention.  
  
"I'm not sure if you remember, Ashley, but this is Mr. Rhett Butler. He was at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks the day the war started. Mr. Butler helped evacuate us from Atlanta, and has been helping out here at Tara."  
  
A look of confusion passed over Ashley's face as he greeted Rhett, who was, Scarlett noted wryly, barely able to suppress an ironic grin. She was overcome with a sudden panic at what he would say.  
  
"Mr. Wilkes, it's good to meet you again, and see you safely home. I've heard such wonderful things about you."  
  
Scarlett could have killed him then, but not one else appeared to notice the anger in her eyes or the mocking in Rhett's voice.  
  
"Mr. Butler, it's an honor to again make the acquaintance of a man who has been so helpful to both the Cause and my family."   
  
Awkwardly, the men shook hands in a tentative truce. Even Melanie, normally blissfully oblivious to underlying social tensions, seemed aware of it.  
  
"Ashley, you must come in and say hello to Beau, then clean up before dinner." Her tone, gentle and insistent, drew him easily back onto the porch and into Tara. Only a backwards glance and tip of his head acknowledged the presence of Scarlett and Rhett.  
  
Both stood frozen for a long moment, Rhett eyeing her slightly puzzled expression. "Shall we go finish up that fence before dinner, while Mr. Wilkes is getting his family sorted out?"  
  
"You're infuriating, Rhett, you know that? Can't you at least be civil to Ashley?" Without waiting for a response, she pivoted on her heel and stalked back towards the fence line they'd been working on. She could hear him following her, his steady stride crackling dead grass.  
  
"Scarlett." He caught her elbow and spun her to face him. "I have no intention of being anything except 'civil' to your dear Mr. Wilkes. It just happens to unnerve me to see your mental wheels spinning two seconds after you see him on your doorstep."  
  
Finally meeting his eyes, she saw something flashing in them that she wished, for the millionth time, that she understood. He always got that look whenever their discussions got terribly heated, or...she shook her head and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. "Rhett, I was thinking as soon as I saw him, that's true. But not in the way you must think. You remember our conversation on the porch earlier this year?"  
  
He nodded the affirmative as she continued. "Seeing him again, after not thinking about him, dredged up all those old confusions. When he kissed me hello, I feel like I should've felt something, and I didn't. Not anything more than when Charles kissed me, and I know I didn't...I mean..."  
  
Rhett cut her flummoxed guilt short with a burst of laughter. "Never anything but honest, are you Scarlett? No, don't look so guilty, I admire you for saying it. What does this lead you to believe about your current feelings, then?"  
  
Trying to follow the logical path he'd set before her, she hesitated slightly. "I suppose it means that I feel the same way about him as I did about Charles. That makes sense, doesn't it? But before I was so sure I was desperately in love with him."  
  
"You've been desperately in love with the idea of him for a long time, haven't you?" He continued as she nodded, not needing her confirmation. "Both of you have changed in the last four years. Hell, everyone in the country's been changed by the last four years. You're not the same woman at twenty you were at sixteen, and a man who's been through a war isn't the same as a man who's just returned from the Grand Tour of Europe."  
  
Pulling back, but not struggling with his hold on her arm, Scarlett looked up into his face. Even she could see it was waiting. Without knowing why, she knew her next words mattered a great deal to both of them, and she was determined to make them right. The odds of that, given their past verbal sparring matches, was slim, but she would try.  
  
"A lot has happened to all of us." Tentatively, seeing a flicker of approval in his face, she persisted. "I don't think what I want in the end is much different from what I wanted at sixteen. I'd like to be happy, have a nice house, clothes, and good food on the table for my family. Respect. But now, now I think I have to get there differently than before."  
  
Both stood in the silence of sunset, the red tones of Tara reflected in their faces. A hint of a smile played at Rhett's lips as Scarlett continued to ponder her place in the world.  
  
"Before, I thought Ashley was the road to what I wanted. Now, I think he's even less skilled at dealing with all of this than either of us are."  
  
Her voice was tenuous and nearly a whisper, but the words hung full in the silence. Scarlett was oblivious to the deeper revelation of her words, but Rhett's smile broke true across his face. It flashed fast enough for Scarlett to see and take comfort in it, but was quickly replaced by a façade of less intense cheer.  
  
"Let's finish this fence up while you mull that over. It's quite a realization to come to terms with." His hand on the small of her back was warm, supportive as he moved her forwards to the fence line. "Then I'm sure Mammy will have found something delicious to feed us to mark Mr. Wilkes' return."  
  
"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, you know there's nothing delicious in that kitchen better than anyone, seeing how you stole it yourself."  
  
Deep laughter pealed across the land, echoing on the hillsides. "I'm glad to see you're maintaining your sense of humor in a changing world as well, my darling. Now hand me than hammer and try to hold the rails still this time."  
  
Scarlett could feel Rhett behind her on the verandah as the carriage bearing Jonas Wilkerson and that horrible Slattery girl pulled up. He closed the distance between them, resting one hand on the small of her back, providing silent support as he let her handle the matter.  
  
"Emmie and I are looking right forward to coming to live here at Tara. It's such a shame you haven't paid your taxes yet," Wilkerson leered up at the two figures on the porch.  
  
"You'll know no such pleasure, Mr. Wilkerson. Apparently you've been misinformed. I paid our taxes this winter."  
  
"Not the reassessed taxes. I took the liberty of bringing you the statement on the balance you've neglected. I suggest you start packing your things."  
  
"And I suggest that you get off this land. I've still got time to pay this, and would never give you the satisfaction of owning a piece of my home."  
  
"You know you don't have the money to pay for it. We can work out a deal here and now for Tara. Emmie would be just thrilled."  
  
"I'm sure she would be, she got enough assistance with your brats from here. Who's taken care of them after killing mother?"  
  
Emmie shrank back, moving away from Scarlett's fuming form. Wilkerson turned to glance at her before returning his gaze to Scarlett. "You'll pay for that remark, Miss O'Hara."  
  
Pivoting on his heel, he returned to the carriage with Emmie and they made their way down the drive. Scarlett turned away from them, needing to process this new burden on their nonexistent finances and hoping for Rhett's solace. Before she could open her mouth to speak, hooves pounded past them, throwing up red clods of earth.  
  
"Pa! Pa, stop!"   
  
Horse and rider passed in a dark blur, but his voice carried back and echoed off the brick. "I'll show you who's the master of Tara!"  
  
The animal hurtled eagerly down the rough drive after the carriage. Scarlett found herself unable to turn away from the inevitable as Gerald pointed it towards the recently mended fence line. Unused to jumping and far from peak condition, the horse made a valiant effort but tangled its front legs on the top rail, flipping both horse and rider over onto the hard road.  
  
Scarlett let the tax notice slip from her hand and float to the porch, forgotten, as she raced down the drive towards the now-broken fence. She could see the horse struggling to its feet, reins trailing on the ground and three-legged lame. As she came to a stop beside him, he dropped his head towards the still form of Gerald O'Hara, looking almost remorseful for what had happened.  
  
Tears welled in Scarlett's eyes as she dropped to the ground at Gerald's side. Looking up, she saw Rhett and Pork making their way down from the house. No one spoke as they carried Gerald's body back to the house, the horse hobbling along at the end of the reins trailing from Scarlett's fingers.  
  
In less than two years, Scarlett had lost both of her parents and assumed responsibility for the welfare of her entire family. That knowledge weighed heavily upon her as she sat in what, in her mind, was still her mother's office. That afternoon, her father had been placed to rest in the red earth next to his wife. She had barely been able to stand next to the grave; unlike her mother's funeral, she had returned to the house as soon as possible and cloistered herself in the office.  
  
The sun had long since set, and the house had slowly quieted, and everyone had left her alone. She'd expected as much, really. Only one person in the house was brave enough to risk her temper, and he knew better than to pressure her. In the time since he'd returned to Tara with them, he'd been nothing but helpful to her, but had never pressured her. Rhett knew instinctively what she needed, and provided support and guidance without exerting any of the pressure he could've had over her.   
  
Suddenly, she realized she was in need of his help again. Putting the emotional burden of her father's death aside, she tried to tease out how to find three hundred dollars to cover the taxes. That was now a much more pressing problem. Unsteadily, she rose from the couch and made her way to the door, intent on seeking Rhett's guidance on matters of finance. Certainly, she reasoned, he of all people would know how to get the money.  
  
She halted as faint, vaguely out of key piano music reached her ears. There was a piano in the study, but no one had touched it since before the war. Slowly she cracked the office door and stepped into the hall, where the music was a bit more distinct. The tune was not something she recognized, but was certainly beautiful.   
  
Sliding the door of the study open, a single candle on top of the piano illuminated the room. Somehow, she was not surprised to find Rhett silhouetted at the piano bench, his hands easily covering the yellowed keys. Not wanting to interrupt his playing, she silently slid the door closed behind her and made her way to the bench. Wordlessly, she sat down on his right, her gaze focused on his hands.  
  
With a soft flourish, his hands came to rest on the keys, and Rhett looked at her expectantly. This would be on her terms, as all their conversations had been of late.  
  
"That was beautiful. I'm sorry the piano is so out of tune." Her fingers traced over the ivory, the sadness in her voice disproportionate to that evoked by the music.  
  
"Thank you. It's not so very out of tune, and we have greater worries right now."  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
The silence hung, ponderous.  
  
"Rhett, am I such a terrible person, that horrible things keep happening to me?"  
  
"No, darling, not at all. You've done an amazing job of getting yourself and your family by in tough times."  
  
"Then how am I going to take care of them this time? You know I haven't got three hundred dollars!"  
  
"I could help you." His eyes locked onto hers, not letting her back down. Something burned there, finally visible to Scarlett. She knew in that moment that he wasn't jesting. Blushing, she dropped her eyes to her lap.  
  
"You're under no obligations to us. And I don't have anything to give as collateral for the money, except Tara." Her eyes shot up. "Would you take the deed to Tara until I could pay you back? I would, you know I would."  
  
"No, Scarlett."  
  
She froze, unsure of the apparent about-face of sentiment. Abruptly, he reached over and took her hand.  
  
"Scarlett, I won't take the deed to Tara from you. I'll pay the taxes, on one condition."  
  
Pausing, she vacillated between cool confidence and absolute fear of what he would ask of her. "What?" When it finally escaped her lips, it was a whisper of fear at what demand he would place on her resources.  
  
"Marry me."  
  
"What?" Shock overtook her as she tried to process his two simple words.  
  
"Marry me, Scarlett. I'll take care of all your worries. You've taken on more of a burden than any other individual, and dealt well with it. You deserve someone taking care of you. And I can, you and your family. I know in the last year or so, you've been realizing that there are feelings between us."  
  
"I...Rhett, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Say yes." His arm encircled her waist, it's warm weight comforting and supporting her.  
  
She hesitated only a moment, as she realized that for once she could think of no objections to his proposition. He'd been exactly what she needed, and she had never met anyone else she felt as comfortable with. And something more, something she wasn't quite ready to label. "Yes."  
  
Both his arms were around her and their lips were pressed together in an instant. She'd never known a kiss could feel like this, and was glad that she was already seated. Then, she knew that he would continue to treat her as he had these past years, with support and respect, and something even stronger.   
  
"You're sure?" He pulled away, looking down into her shadowed eyes, seeking reassurance from her for once.  
  
"Yes. I'm sure. I've never been so sure about anything."  
  
In her own mind, she tentatively identified the feeling as love. Yet after her confusion over Ashley, she was reluctant to vocalize that sentiment.   
  
For now, both were content in the knowledge that this was the right decision. After years of turmoil, the pieces of their lives were finally falling into place. She was amazed at the instant peace of mind she found at her answer, tipping her head up to catch Rhett's lips in another kiss. 


End file.
